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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27528379">KazuKoi Week 2020</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ju5t4n3rd/pseuds/ju5t4n3rd'>ju5t4n3rd</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Super Dangan Ronpa 2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), F/M, Post-High School, School Reunion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-08 06:21:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,321</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27528379</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ju5t4n3rd/pseuds/ju5t4n3rd</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Better late than never, as I always say! I'm going to write all of these prompts in a non-despair AU, so all together it should feel like one story!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Koizumi Mahiru/Soda Kazuichi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>KazuKoi Week 2020</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Puffy white clouds hang lazily over a clear blue sky, with the sun shining above and flowers blooming below. Mahiru Koizumi stands in front of the steps leading up to Hope’s Peak Academy, adjusting the strap of her camera bag over her shoulder. Five years ago, she graduated with the confidence that she’d never have to step foot in the building again. Yet a month ago, Headmaster Jin Kirigiri announced the mandatory  five-year reunion of the graduated Class 77-B students. Mahiru isn’t stupid; This feels like a ploy to pull at the young adult’s nostalgic pursestrings to endorse the Academy more than anything. Mahiru can think of a few of her classmates who have the cash to spare ‘for old time’s sake’. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She does not. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mahiru steps up and into the building, following the signs and taped arrows leading towards the gymnasium. She follows for a ways, slow in her steps and listening for any signs of her old classmates. </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘How many actually showed up?’</span>
  </em>
  <span>,  she thinks. Last Mahiru had heard, Teruteru was roaming the southern vineyards of France, Ibuki was touring in South America according to her social media profiles, and Sonia was definitely still ruling in Novoselic. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mahiru turns off into a hallway, leading towards the arts department and away from the gymnasium. She checks the small and delicate circular bronze watch around her freckled wrist. The first meeting doesn’t start until noon, and it’s still only eleven o’clock. She’s always had a habit of showing up to things early. Mahiru doesn’t want to just sit and wait around there for an hour, after all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She sighs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Why does this place still make her feel so terrible? Maybe it was the circumstances in which she was admitted into the school, or how she was constantly standing in the shadow of her mother, or the treatment of her first and closest best friends and herself throughout the years attending, or the crushing pressure of the classes and needing to be the ‘hope for the next generation’, or the fact that it’s now five years later and she’s still taking lowbrow photojournalism jobs that barely cover the rent in her cramped studio apartment one zip code over from this school. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She realizes she’s been stomping through the halls, raging through her thoughts, and Mahiru finds herself at the dark room door far sooner than she was anticipating. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>has</span>
  </em>
  <span> grown taller since graduating, it’s not unusual for the hallways to feel shorter with longer legs. To her surprise, the door to the dark room is open. She flicks the switch on the wall and red light floods the room’s every surface, casting deep maroon shadows. Mahiru closes the door behind her and rifles through the old file cabinets, searching for old projects turned in and photos left behind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mahiru finds a few, scattered between grading papers and sheets. Most of the works she finds are wide landscape shots and balmy sunsets by the seas, or detailed shots of extravagant plantlife. The portraiture is skilled but few and far between, very obviously only submitted when absolutely needed. She doesn’t find any photos of herself upon first glance. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>CRASH!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mahiru is jerked away from her memories when the sound of a loud crash outside startles her into a jump. She can faintly hear the sound of a voice outside the dark room, so she decides to investigate after leaving the old photos on the desk. Mahiru can definitely hear someone down the hall as she continues on, and she sees the door to the autoshop room slightly ajar. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She pushes it open, only to see Kazuichi Soda heaving up some big piece of machinery up onto a table. The metal scrapes against the table and they both wince at the sound. Soda gives it one last push to make sure it’ll stay on the table, then turns to face Mahiru. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The once strikingly angular lines of his bone frame have since filled in with muscular definition and the filling out of new adulthood. He’s taller, too, and dressed in dark denim jeans with a solid black v-neck shirt and a black and yellow flannel over it. His pink hair shifts its shades and tones in the light that pours in from the garage; It’s much more detailed than back when he would just dump one jar of color onto his scalp back in high school. Mahiru notices that he’s not wearing any kind of hat or beanie, even with a few centimeters of his dark roots showing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ehh, hey there! Mahiru Koizumi! It’s uh, it’s been a while, huh? Wow, hi!” Kazuichi steps in front of the engine to block it from Mahiru’s line of sight, and he leans his hand against the table behind him. His heart’s pounding; Maybe it’s from the rush of anxiety over narrowly dodging dropping an engine on his own foot, or maybe from the sudden appearance of a woman who knew Kazuichi when he was a total teenage dirtbag. “How have, how have you been?” He asks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mahiru smiles as she leans her weight onto her left side. “Oh, I’ve been alright, still taking photos.” She answers, grabbing the strap over her shoulder and showing off the chunky film camera protected within a moleskine case. Something about his lopsided grin feels everything but hostile, even with the shark teeth that have prevailed through the years. “How have you been? I haven’t seen you since--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ibuki's 20th birthday party, I remember!  Er, most of it, she rented a whole island, aw man…” Kazuichi shudders with a grin at the memories of the long November weekend. “I’ve been good!” He leans forward and back on his feet, shoving both his hands in his jean pockets. “I took over pop’s shop right after graduation, an’ I’ve been doin’ real well with it! Turns out, the grade behind us had a certified biker in the class with his own posse! I’ve been fixin’ their bikes and I gotta say, they’re the most polite customers I’ve had the pleasure of dealin’ with. Always on time with the payments, and they’re not pushy about turnaround times...” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As he speaks, Kazuichi really looks at Mahiru to soak in all the changes from when he last saw her. The bags under her eyes are what he notices first, mostly because it assures him that he isn’t the only one to have lost sleep. She’s wearing a thick-knit saffron turtleneck tucked into a pair of deep chestnut houndstooth patterned paper-bag pants. She has to be wearing some kind of floral perfume or body mist, because the garage did not smell this nice when Kazuichi was alone. He’s been going on for a while about the Crazy Diamonds, he realizes, and he runs a hand through his hair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, I’m ramblin’, I get excited about the shop, and--” Kazuichi’s words are cut off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please, please, don’t apologize!” Mahiru insists, and she continues, “I think it’s fantastic what you’re doing with your family’s shop, I’m glad to hear you’re doing well.” She fidgets with her camera strap and shrugs a little. “I suppose you’ll want to know how I’ve been?” And as he nods before she can finish her question, Mahiru can feel her face flush with warmth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’ve done some photography for live performances in the past. Now, though, I’m at a local news station. I work with the journalists to take photos for the articles they write and that the editors publish.” Her enthusiasm slows with every word, and soon, a silence sits with Mahiru and Kazuichi. Her head tilts down, eyes trained on her cherrywood brown oxford shoes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘What a mediocre outcome for the Ultimate Photographer’</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she thinks with disdain. But when she looks back at Kazuichi, he’s still grinning. It’s infectious, and now she’s smiling too. She can’t just end on a bad note like that, not after he was so enthusiastic to share how he’s been. And there </span>
  <em>
    <span>have </span>
  </em>
  <span>been some wonderful things that’ve happened. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mahiru twists her watch around her wrist, the red on her face spreading as she begins to boast. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>have my very own exhibition show last spring…” She reaches into her pocket and pulls out her phone, quickly retrieving the event photos that were taken. Mahiru steps towards Kazuichi and turns the screen towards him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the photo, the room is large and all white, with large and glossy photographs hanging in white frames on the walls. Photos of verdant flora, breathtaking landscapes of Japan’s mountains, and striking shots of the city lights fill the walls, with little notes by each photograph. There are tables in the background with drinks and small snacks arranged nicely, as well as some foldable chairs. In the foreground to the left, stands Mahiru in a simple black dress, smiling widely at the camera. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kazuichi gapes at the photo, his eyes glittering with interest. “May I?,” and with Mahiru’s permission, he takes the phone into his hands and pinches the screen to zoom in as much as he can on the photos around the room. He pans the photo over where Mahiru stands, with her shoulders pressed out and her freckled face posed into a proud grin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is fantastic!” Kazuichi exclaims, “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>own </span>
  </em>
  <span>that room!” Kazuichi looks at Mahiru standing next to him, and he sees a heavy blush on her face. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh no, I don’t want to make her uncomfortable</span>
  </em>
  <span>,’ He thinks in panic. And now realizing how close they were next to each other when they were huddling over her phone, Kazuichi takes a single step back and he clears his throat. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Right. Her phone</span>
  </em>
  <span>.’ Kazuichi extends his arm, Mahiru’s phone laying in his open palm. “That’s so badass, I’d love to know the website where the full images are.” Kazuichi has picked up on the fact that his enthusiasm might have been a little much, but he still wants Mahiru to know very clearly how impressed he is by her show.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mahiru takes her phone back and she pushes a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ll have to put you on the list for my next show,” She half-teases, smiling at him as she screams at herself to </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Take a compliment, this is a genuine compliment!’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>, “Thank you, I don’t think even Hiyoko was that enthusiastic when she saw the floor.” Mahiru winces at her own words. She gives Kazuichi a guilty look. “Please don’t… Tell her I said that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kazuichi laughs and mimes himself zipping his lips shut. “Tell her what?” He plays along, grinning more when he gets Mahiru to smile at him. Hiyoko and Mahiru were practically inseparable after the first few months at Hope’s Peak. By all accounts, they were each other’s best friends. Kazuichi thinks back to his days at the Academy, how Hajime had been his best friend within these halls. It was always apparent, though, that Hajime was </span>
  <em>
    <span>everyone’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>best friend, but Kazuichi appreciated that Hajime was too kind to say it out loud.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looks around the autoshop room. Most of the smaller tools had been replaced, bundled in shiny boxes with microfiber towels, but the larger machines were still the same as the ones Kazuichi had used in school. “Damn, I used to live in this room…” He says, chuckling at the admission.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mahiru snickers, pointing her thumb behind her shoulder. “I was just in the dark room, and it still had some of my old photos in the file cabinets.” She shudders comically, sharing a laugh with Kazuichi. The more she’s with him, the more her mind goes back to Ibuki’s infamous birthday party... </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But then tilts her head and scrutinizes Kazuichi. “Wait, why were you in here, anyways?” She knows that he has every right to ask her the same thing, but she’s curious and willing to answer him should he ask.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah, old time’s sake, I guess.” He answers immediately, and turns to the engine on the table. “I was just tryin’ to get a closer look at this one, but it’s way heavier than it looks, and that’s when you came in.” Kazuichi checks his watch, digital and waterproof to make things easier at the shop, and he clicks his tongue. “Ah shit, it looks like we should be headin’ over.” He takes a deep breath in, and out. </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘I can do this,’</span>
  </em>
  <span> he assures himself. Oddly enough, it’s seeing Mahiru that gives him that confidence. Everything about her is just so warm and sweet and totally capable and in control.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad we got to talk before all the chaos starts,” Kazuichi says as he holds her eye contact, and he feels a swelling heat in his chest when he sees her blush return. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mahiru listens to his reasoning and nods in understanding. When he checks his watch, she instinctively also checks hers. “Shoot, you’re right,” She murmurs as he grounds himself with breathing techniques. Right as she looks away from her watch to him, Kazuichi speaks, and her face reddens. That look he’s giving her hurls Mahiru’s memories back to the island. </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Oh. Oh right.’</span>
  </em>
  <span> Out of a mix between nervous compulsion, social masking, and a splash of </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘why the fuck not’</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Mahiru returns the warm smile and chuckles. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Me too, Kazuichi. Hopefully we can talk after the chaos ends, too?” Kazuichi beams at Mahiru, and she exits the autoshop room to hold the door for him with a tiny bow. “Shall we?” Mahiru asks, and he nods again to follow her down the halls. She’s still dreading this reunion, knowing that her achievements will feel small in comparison to others at Hope’s Peak. But Mahiru can’t find words to compare this feeling of comfort and relief in knowing that Kazuichi will be with her, throughout it all. Yet in the back of her mind, a nagging thought claws against her frontmost thoughts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Does he remember what happened at Ibuki’s island?’</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>You ever take six weeks to write one prompt because life? Yeah. </p><p>Hope y'all enjoy, I really leaned a heavy hand into foreshadowing the next prompt!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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